I’ve known the man for eight years so I can easily picture him inDelta, seated in the VIP booth, his green, calculating eyes following his wife’s every move despite an army of bouncers trailing after her like oversized guard dogs.
“Be careful,” he says before cutting the call, never one to trust my father.
“Always am,” I mutter, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat and burning out of the parking lot.
4
Hailey
An hour goes by before a nurse enters my room, wearing a kind smile. It doesn’t touch her eyes, though. It’s practiced, artificial compassion.
Still, the presence of another person cuts off my impending breakdown. Tears blur my vision, intensifying helplessness and pain. I’m usually tougher than this.
“Where’s my dad?” I pinch the sheets between my fingers, accordioning the edge.
It helps ward off my burgeoning anxiousness.
“He’s with your doctor. They won’t be long,” she assures. “Do you need anything, sweetheart?”
“Painkillers, please. My head is killing me.
“Oh, of course, let me...” She trails off, checking the clipboard at the foot of my bed.
She flips a few pages, her eyes skimming whatever’s written, and then she whips her phone out, taking pictures of my medical records.
My eyes narrow in confusion...
“I have to pop it all in the system,” she explains.
“Oh... okay.” I try to prop myself higher but give up quickly as searing pain jolts my dislocated shoulder. “Where’s the nurse call button? I can’t find it.”
She rounds the bed and, with another polished smile, bends down, retrieving the missing button from the floor. “Must’ve fallen off when you were moving about.”
Coma patients can do that?I’ve barely moved a muscle since I opened my eyes.
She casts a quick glance at my vitals, and pulls the IV stand closer, fiddling with the flow regulator before adjusting the pillows behind my back.
Dad did it better.
“The pain should go away soon,” she says, her voice stretching like bubble gum. “Just relax.”
My eyes start swimming, my head lolling side to side. I glare at the nurse, fighting the sudden drowsiness, but it hits like a wave. My eyelids droop and hands fall away from the sheets, my accordion fold unfolding...
I can’t lift a single impossibly heavy finger.
“What...?” I murmur, the end of the sentence falling into the same abyss my memories must be trapped in.
???
I squint against the fluorescent lights.
Wait... that already happened.
A relieved sigh escapes me at the lack of pain.
Whatever they’re pumping into my veins works miracles. I could go for a run right now... must be morphine.
The brightness in my hospital room still scorches my eyes but adjusting to it takes less time, and seeing my father, sitting in a chair beside me, somehow makes the task easier.
